The 101st Annual Hunger Games!
by ZombifiedZebulon
Summary: A new century's worth of tributes start here! 24 go in to fight in the Arena... only one comes out alive.


_**The 101st annual Hunger Games!**_

_**By ZombifiedZebulon**_

_**Tributes:**_

_**District One:**_

_**Male: Marot Sanders**_

_**Female: Madge Burden**_

_**District Two:**_

_**Male: Kane Frez**_

_**Female: Lydia Drenton**_

_**District Three**_

_**Male: Jace Thicket**_

_**Female: Naomi Fernan**_

_**District Four:**_

_**Male: Zyphr Bashi**_

_**Female: Effie Dran**_

_**District Five:**_

_**Male: Thanatos Jackson**_

_**Female: Leona West**_

_**District Six:**_

_**Male: Rodrick Bennett**_

_**Female: Meka Kasey**_

_**District Seven**_

_**Male: Asher Rainor**_

_**Female: Hattie Nester**_

_**District Eight:**_

_**Male: Darian Tarner**_

_**Female: Loleria Estlo**_

_**District Nine:**_

_**Male: Abel Frederick**_

_**Female: Ariana Glear**_

_**District Ten:**_

_**Male: Tiberius Kane**_

_**Female: Hillary Prince**_

_**District Eleven:**_

_**Male: Jamal Peirceton**_

_**Female: Saige Barti**_

_**District Twelve:**_

_**Male: Quintin Katan**_

_**Female: Sierra Ross**_

_Chapter One: The Unthinkable Reapings..._

_Hi, this is ZombifiedZebulon coming at you at supersonic speed with the 101st Hunger Games! This story will be the first in the series of around...100? I don't know. Either way, these tributes are all OC's and mine own, but of course Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games. This is all new, the rebellion never happened, no characters ever lived. EVER. And my next story will be SYOT's so be ready for that! Anyway, lets get on with the Reapings!_

**Somewhere in District One**

Marot sighed and threw the spear at the wooden dummy his father created to help him prepare for the Hunger Games. Does training really have to be so hard? He wished it didn't.

He pick up the spear and rethrows it again, this time nailing the target in the head, splintering the wood all over the grass in his back yard.

"Marot, son, come on!" His father yelled from the top story of his house.

Then he remembered: Today's the Reaping. He thought it was tommorow, but he was wrong.

He quickly ran in the house, snatching up clothes and a nice sweater. He had to look nice for him being on TV for his first time. He was going to volunteer, you see.

He was a career, expected by his father to win The Hunger Games. But lately, Marot's being a little light on training. He just got bored so quick.

Meh. No point, really.

Being an only child gives Marot a real advantage, as well. He doesn't have to compete with any siblings to his claim to fame. Only him and his father to support. Meanwhile, his mother is living it up in the Capitol somewhere, chilling. Well, he sees her once a year, but he can never speak to her. But this year...

He relished the thought of seeing her again in person.

He went out in the back yard and grabbed a sword his father bought him. He jabbed it in the head, splintering the wood once again and sawing off the head.

Marot smiled. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts...

The backyard was covered in wood from the test dummies. Marot smiled at his handywork and trotted down the street to catch up with his father.

"Where have you been?" His father asks annoyingly, implying that Marot was doing something bad. He kinda was, but who caaares.

"Hyping myself up. Y'know, to see Mom." Marot lies.

"I understand. I really do..." His father's voice dips and Marot rolls his eyes.

"Let's just get there, okay?"

"I'll see you at the last words ceremony, okay?" His father asks before waving goodbye.

Marot laughs at the thought. "You fool..." he muttered under his breath. Personally, Marot could not wait until he got away from his father. That fool only talking about moving in with his mother at the Capitol. Like that would ever happen. When you win the Hunger Games... is what he always said.

Marot signed the sheet that admitted him into the Reaping part.

The escort, Justin Fibernathy, wore a shirt with the number 101 printed across his shirt. He read the treaty thingy, whatever, and then he called out the girls name first.

"Magde Burden!"

Suddenly, several volunteers sputtered up. "I volunteer!"

"No, me!"

"I was planning on it!"

Marot saw a girl walk on stage. She had blonde hair with highlights in it. She was, in a sense, beatiful. As Marot gauked at her, she spoke, "No, no, no. I want to be the tribute, you see. So, hah." The girl smiled. "I am Magde Burden. Nice to meet you, Mr. Fibernathy. Aren't you happy to meet the newest winner of the Hunger Games?"

"Ah, nice to meet you too, Ms. Burden." Justin smiled a blinding white smile to the cameras, then turned to the boys lard glass bowl. "Now time to pick our exciting boy tribute!" He digs his hand into the bowl, pulls it out and it reads:

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!" Marot yells before the name is called. He could've sworn that he busted the 16 year-old's eardrums next him.

Marot marched up on stage and plopped himself next to Magde.

Justin blinked. "And you are...?"

Marot laughed. "I am the winner for the 101st Hunger Games."

"Don't be so arrogant, yet." Magde spoke next to me, making me jump. "Chubby."

"I am not chubby, I am-" Marot began, until he was cut off by Justin, smiling.

"Meet our District One Tributes, folks!"

**Somewhere in District Two**

Lydia grabbed the dog, then pulling it back into the house.

"Stop. Trying. To. Run. From. MEEE!" Lydia screamed, slamming the door. And yet the chihuahua barked and ran off.

God, Lydia hated that dog. Why could'nt Mom keep him under control? Annoying little shit. She walked in Mom's room to get her clothes. Mom was sleeping, of course. Knocked out cold. Some pills knocked her out like a light.

The struggle to get her up an hour early ticked Lydia off when they were 15 minutes late to the Reaping.

Lydia was dressed in a yellow skirt that belonged to her older sister, before she was shot several times.

... long story.

Lydia basically carried her Mom to the Reaping, as she was so sluggish.

Lydia reflected the day- chihuahua chasing, drug addicted up Mom, bad trades. Life is the gift that keeps on giving. And of couse the constant reminder of the yearly slaughter, and the hard reminder her sister was killed by Peacekeepers.

What a day. What a day indeed. Lydia scanned the area, spotting her friend, then strolled over to her.

"Lucy! Hey,Lucy!" Lydia called to her buddy, in which she stood next to in the 15 year old section.

"are you shaking, Lucy?"

"Kinda... I'm scared, Lydia. What if I get picked?! I would stand no chance..."

"You won't, Lydia. I know for a fact that my name is in there only 13 times and yours is in there only 5! I have a better chance of my name being called-"

"Lydia Drenton! Please come up!"

"H-h-h-huh?" Lydia cried out. "No-no... my mother..."

Lydia looked over to Lucy, who was wide-eyed and tears dwelling in them currently. Lydia felt tears in her own eyes, and suddenly realization hit. I, Lydia Drenton, am a tribute for District 2.

She turn to Lucy. "Please, take care... of my mother... please..."

Lucy's nodded, ever so slowly, as her blonde ponytail bobbed up and down.

Then Lydia whispered, "thank you..."

She walked solemnly on stage.

The escorter, Frank Visco, smiled. "Amazing, now who may the boy tribute be?!"

Frank smiled and dug his hands into the boys bowl. He slowly lifted the piece of paper out of the bowl, and read the name loud and clear:

"Jason Cromwell!"

A sudden uproar came the crowd as a crying boy emerged from the crowd, tears running down his cheeks as he screamed and yelled his 'Momma'. I felt bad for him because he was from the 12 year-old section.

Suddenly, a much deeper voice boomed, "I volunteer as tribute."

Everyone's eyes turned on a boy in the 18 year-old section.

A strong, buff, attractive by any means dude stepped out and onto the stage. He wore a tight shirt (obviously) to show off his 6-pack, and buff arms. He had closecropped brown hair.

"Well!" Frank smiled once again, with more glee. He was glad to get some action. "Thank you for your attendance today!"

Suddenly, Lydia was dragged backstage, and her final look before she left of District 2, was of her dazed mother being carried by Lucy, completely unaware to her daughter's fate.

**Somewhere in District Three**

Jace stood there, looking at his scrawny build, thinking about today. How the hell is he gonna win the Hunger Games with THIS body?! He's been working out, but more important things caught his attention... like books and math. His father felt disapointed in him, he knew it, but personally, Jace could care less. He didn't wanna be a part of the Hunger Games.

His FATHER wanted him to become a part of it, just because he won it before. His father is the mentor for District Twelve as well. Surprisingly, his title stands for some time after all of the careers from D3 were betrayed by other Careers or died of naturaly causes.

And suddenly, Dad expected Jace to be the newest winner. This is bull-!

Suddenly, looking at his scrawny build, bony face, light blonde hair, and green eyes, his father bursts in the door, without knocking, and yelled, "Get dressed!'

Jace hated living in Victor's Village. But, since Dad had won the Hunger Games, they do. And apparently, anyone who won's family doesn't have to fight in The Hunger Games, but apparently, Jace 'wanted' too.

And he was already tributed. Set up to be.

"Todays the day, son, that you set uo your victory! More fame and fortune to the Thicket family!"

"IS THAT ALL YOU CARE ABOUT?!" His mother suddenly exploded into the room, throwing things at Dad and hitting him.

"He needs to live up to the name!" Dad yelled back, grabbing his mother's hands and shoving her down.

They hit each other quite a lot. Jace cries nightly, but realizes if he doesnt volunteer, his mother's gonna get beat worse.

"It's okay, Mom, I'll be a career, I'll win, don't worry... I'll be fine..." Jace tries to comfort her as best as he can, as Dad stomps out the room.

"Don't do it, Jace... please..."

"Don't worry, Momma. Don't worry. I'll be fine... and when I win, I'll make Dad leave... and he will never touch you again. I promise."

" Please, dear. Winning scars you for life... your father was a good man before... he won... but it scarred him, the games..."

"Momma, please. He won't stop unless I win."

"No-"

"TIME TO GO! NOW!" Dad yelled from the front door.

"I have too." He said as Jace walked with his father to the Reaping.

On the way, Jace stood in the 18-yearold section next to some boys form his school.

And suddenly, a girl is picked, immedialtly followed by a 'I volunteer as tribute'.

A girl stood on stage, introduced herself as Naomi Fernan. She had slightly darker skin than white, not even close to Jace's own ghost tan, but she was pretty, usual for a Career. Unlike Jace himself.

It happened so fast, Jace almost missed it. The escorter, Ms. Berta (she has green hair and pink everything else)

dug her hand into the bowl, plucked out a name, just as Jace yelled out- "UGUUUGH! NO!"

Everyone stared at him, even the other tribute, which looked like she rather be looking at he nails.

Then he whispered, "I volunteer as tribute."

Suddenly, almost everyone laughed, the mood lightened, and he walked on stage, cheeks look like big fat red tomatoes.

Ms. Berta was laughing a little TOO hysterically. "Your name, son?"

"My name... is Jace... Um... Jace Thicket." He said, suddenly over the anxiety, realizing he just signed his death treaty.

**Somewhere in District Four**

Effie stood on the boat, smelling the salt air, wind blowing her long hair behind her. She did this everytime she knew a bad day was coming. She'd been training for this day for years. To volunteer, bring wealth to her family. She lived on the poor side of District Four and her family desperate for money. She needed to get them to Victor's Village. To live a wonderful life. But she couldn't, until this day, when she became a bloody career she despises deeply. And if she lost, oh well.

She breathed yet another salty fresh air and started to head back to the shore. No need to be out forever, to hide from the Games, escape, take her family and run. But she couldn't and she knew that. So she stays, fights.

The Hunger Games... the ultimate deathmatch between... KIDS. This resentment for the Capitol, fueled by the unfairness of it all, Effie decided to fight it for everyone who died unfairly.

When she reached shore, she stormed in the house, looking for whatever nice she could put on. A spaghetti strap dress with sandals. Nice.

Her and her mother, and little sister, Minnie, who was but 6, but Effie was just 13.

She hadn't told her mother about her plan. To volunteer.

As she was set with the other 13 year-old's, next to one in her grade, Jessie. Jessie helped Effie through everything that came her way. Jessie was part of the rich side, you see. She always funded Effie's family until Jessie was caught by her father and it stopped. Jessie still helps her on the side.

"I want to thank you for everything, Jessie. In case I don't make it."

"Huh?"Jessie seemed confused.

"I want you to know-"

The Escorter, Mr. Freddy, was dressed as a whale. Now you're probably like (wtf?) but he does something fishy every year... as in fishy do dress up as something that made him look even more retarded than he was last year...

Freddy dug his hand into the bowl again, pulling a single slip out paper, and called- "Jessie Bownavere!"

The shock of a 2 tesserae being called almost stops Effie from calling out, but suddenly, she quickly fixed that.

"I volunteer as tribute!" Effie yelled, surprising Jessie.

"You can't do that for me! NO!" Suddenly tears welp up in her eyes. She grabs for Effie as she gets up on stage, but Peacekeepers hold her back.

Freddy smiles gleefully likes it just a game... well, it is for them. "The boy tribute, please? Will-"

"I volunteer as tribute!" Somebody yells from the crowd. A nicely tanned kid from the 15 year-old section walks on stage.

"Name, sonny?" Freddy asks, nearly shoving the mic in the boys face.

"Zephyr. Zephyr Bashi." The boy mumbled into the mic. He is obviously built like a career.

He looks strong, with a shaved head and grey eyes. He wears a coat, some pants, and some brand new shoes. To be sure, this kid IS a Career.

But most male career's are pretty boy's. This kid looks like he grew up tough, on a farm, maybe in District 11. Not here. What is he-?

Freddy's obnoxious voice snaps Effie out of it.

"That concludes this years Reapings!"

**Somewhere in District 5**

Thanatos sat on the egde of his seat, nearly falling off. He watched last years Hunger Games over and over, and yet...

The final Career tribute, Fantasia, stabbed the District 5 tribute, making him crumple. The final cannon fired, sounding the end of the 100th annual Hunger Games.

Thanatos sighed. Since the 99th Hunger Games, there have been no new mentors except the former champion, the career girl Fantasia from 2, and Kentler, from 5.

He roots for the District 5 every year, analyzing what they did wrong, from the starting to end, and he always thinks, I won't be like them. Yes, Thanatos has learned quite a lot already. He tapes The Hunger Games since he was 6, old enough to understand that it was a game, and nothing else.

Just a game.

Thanatos' dream is to become a Gamemaker for the Hunger Games. He has run over so many arenas in his head, it was unreal. His mother had taken him to a doctor, for some reason, he didn't know, and he called Thanatos strange, and yet he never understood why. Even as his mother was shot to death in front of him, Thanatos never thought about what made him 'strange'.

He lived all alone now, surviving on charity from his neighbors in a small house, with pictures of his pretty mommy and of course, the best, the greatest scenes from last year's Hunger Games. He liked the one's with a lot of red.

Suddenly, a knock on the door made Thanatos jump. He walked quietly to the door, looked through the peekhole, and opened it slowly. There stood his best friend, Ramos. Thanatos smiled and hugged Ramos, making Ramos uneasy, but Thanatos didn't care.

Suddenly, Ramos spoke. "Thanatos... the uh, Reaping is today."

Thanatos squeaked with joy, running back in, stripping in front of Ramos, then putting on his best pants and t-shirt, still holy from moths, but who doesn't have that, right?

Ramos gestured for them to go, but suddenly he was gone. Thanatos knew where to go, but he wanted to walk with Ramos... oh well!

As Thanatos skipped down the street, laughing and giggling, he noticed the mood. He's been to other Reapings before, but he turned 12 last month, so he's part of it now. The solemn faces, bad mood, Thanatos was almost convinced that today something ruined the holiday.

"Everything's alright, guys! Really! Today's a day to be happy!" He called to the sad people on the street.

When he got there, Thanatos saw Ramos and his family standing in line. Skipping in line, Thanatos bumped into Ramos on purpose. "Hi, buddy!" He called, and his family gave him a strange look. Ramos sighed.

"Thanatos, go ahead, okay?"

Thanatos smiled. "Okay!"

Thanatos cut ahead again, straight to the women checking names.

"Kid, look..." The woman said, obviously from the Capitol, with purple hair and long long looong eyelashes.

"I am Thanatos Jackson!" He said loudly, kicking the woman into annoyance, checking his name off, then shooing him into the 12 year old section.

And suddenly, the Reaping was in full swing.

The escorter, Crawford, smiled a nice, pretty, blinding smile. "Ladies first!"

He plunges his hand into the bowl, his long, orange nails teasing every slip of paper that it can touch.

He pulls one out and reads the name. "Leona West!"

A scream from the 15 year old section explodes.

"NO! NO! NOT ME! ANYONE BUT ME!" The girl name Leona yelled.

She gets on stage, tears running down her face, grabs the microphone, and yells, "Somebody-! Somebody please volunteer!"

No one says anything.

It is silent except a select few who knew Leona that weeped.

"Well..." Crawford said, clearly unhappy with the burst of crying and weeping. "Time for boys, I reckon."

He digs his hand in the bowl a second time. Quickly, Thanatos looks at Ramos, and flashed a grin.

Ramos' face was white.

"Ramos Kitler!" Crawford yelled triumphantly.

"N- Me-..." Ramos looked like he was about to barf as he started walking on stage.

Then his mommy yelled, "RAMOS! OH MY GOD NO!"

She tried to get to Ramos, but the Peacekeepers held him back.

Then Thanatos had a thought. What if...

"I volunteer as tribute!" Thanatos yelled, smiling widely, as he marched on stage. If he won this game, he would definitley become the head Gamemaker.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"That crazy 12 year old?"

"How is HE gonna win?"

"Someone stop him!"

Thanatos kept grinning as Ramos laughed heartily and stepped off stage.

**Somewhere in District 6**

"Meka! Wake up, Meka!"

Meka shot awake and hit her head on the top of the bunk.

"OW!" She screamed, rolling onto the hardwood floor, leaving a mighty bruise on my legs minutes after.

"What, Mom?"

"Today's the Reaping! I thought you should get up earlier!"

sister, Belliena, stood in the bathroom, putting on makeup.

Not Meka's kind of thing. AT ALL.

She liked looking natural. Without accesories, at all.

She does support looking nice due to clothes, she thought about being comepletely natural, like no clothes, but guys would... uh.. nevermind. Anyway, she likes clothes. Belliena gives her an ugly look as Meka watches her put on makeup.

Meka slips in the shower, washes, and gets out.

"Mom!" Belliena yells. "Meka took soooo long in the shower and we're gonna be late!"

"Meka! Hurry up, dammit!" Her mother yells from the next room over.

Meka curses them both. They both hate her, because she's not straight. Sure, she doesn't like boys. So?!

Meka dresses quickly, messing up her dress on the way, and heads out the door.

On the way to the Reaping, she got remarks from almost all the boy at her school.

"Hey, look at that nice piece. To bad she's not straight!"

"Hey, I'll get you a girlfriend if you date me!"

And others. But the others were more... yucky. And through the entire ridicule, Mom and Belliena ignored it.

The Reaping finally came. As she signed in, she took a look at the new escorter.

His name was Ronnie. He came from the Capitol like every other escort. The last escort died, of a horrible accident from the train ride. It wrecked, killing her and one of the tributes. They came, and got another one.

Meka slipped in next to the rest of the 15 year olds. Of course, they moved, trying to avoid the lesbian. Only some did this. The majority of the people were nice, but her own family, and the boys espicially, were not. And not to many people were lesbian like her, so of course she couldn't hang out with other girls without making them feel uncomfortable.

Suddenly, the tributes were ready to be claimed.

The escorter, Ronnie, dug his hand in the bowl and violently yanked out a slip of paper.

"And her name is..."

Meka held her breathe.

"Meka Kasey!"

And Meka suddenly couldn't breathe, her face was white. She was just called to go fight to the death in an Arena of pshycos, and a few like her.

In a trance, she stepped on stage. She scanned the crowd until she locked eyes with a special girl- Georgia, someone she actually trusted. She hasn't seen her all day, but Georgia was... the first girl Meka loved. They had broke up a few months back, but there was pain on her face nontheless.

"Now time for the boy tribute-" More rummaging in the bowl violently- "-Rodrick Bennett!"

A solemn looking boy stepped on stage, he was short, had a familiar face, but otherwise he was normal looking.

"Haha! I'm so very very glad! Hopefully one of these two will win this years Hunger Games!"

Fat chance. Meka thought. Very very fat chance.

**Somewhere in District Seven**

Asher sat up in his bed. He looked at the clock. 6 AM.

He got dressed and took off to work, working at the local lumber industry. Day in and day out.

The blisters split open again and again every day.

Asher sighed, cutting another tree down, making it crash, then slowly cut it up. He had dropped out of school for this job, this career, to make his families life better. He had submitted tons of tesserae so his family could not worry. Like his mother did before she was sent away at the age of 18 to the Hunger Games. She never left. So now he had 2 stepbrothers, a stepmom, and his father.

"Hey. What are you thinking?" Daniel said, smiling as he grabbed Asher's shoulder.

"Nothing. The Hunger Games, maybe, Zachariah is old enough this year, and he will..."

"Hehee... Zachariah has one slip in their over thousands. You, you have more of a chance... but still astronomical!"

Asher smiled at Daniel's enthusiasm. Over the years since Asher dropped out of school, Daniel has been Asher's one and only buddy. Of course, his Dad was his best friend, but...

"Don't you hate having to give this to the Capitol?" He was referring to the Lumber they cut.

"Yeah, a real pain." Asher replied.

"Looky, looky, looky, time for our 'break', aka the Hunger Games."

"Oh, joy."

They both walked and joked about Daniels hundred different crushes. He pointed out Hattie, his first love, Maddie, his 17th loves, etc.

Then they arrived at the Reaping. Asher waved at his father and winked at Octavian, his other stepbrother. Octavian was only 11, next year he was twelve, then he would participate in the Hunger Games Reaping.

Until then, he could only marvel at Asher and Zachariah.

Thats just it; Asher had put in 34 tesserae without having to put Zachariah to work to get grain. Of course, his father objcted this, but Asher didn't mind this. At least his family was happy.

He was dressed in his work clothes; of course he had to go back immediatly after it was called, unless, of course, Daniel, 18, or Zach got Reaped. Then Asher would take the day off and mourn.

Asher wasn't entirely sure Daniel was not going to volunteer. His family is much poorer than himself, so he might as well try to win for fame and fortune... but Asher talked him out of it. But Daniel might still try to volunteer...

"Don't do it," Asher said, leaning over to Daniel, "Don't volunteer."

"I'm not! My family couldn't live without me-"

The escort stood on stage. Her name was Casey McEarthy. She was dressed as a tree, with her arms as twigs and her dress made to look like a stump. Pretty ugly, Asher thought.

"Girls first?" Casey says, swishing her twig arm around in the bowl. "Hattie Nester!"

Daniel fell onto his knee beside Asher, holding his gut. "No no no no not Hattie..."

It was Daniel's first love.

Suddenly, I heard, "Asher Rainor!"

He saw this coming one day. After all the tesserae, he expected it. But this, this, was his last year. If Asher didn't get picked, he could have walked away free. Daniel sadly looks up at him, and cries- ". . .no. . ."

"Take care of Zachariah, Daniel..." Asher said, as a Peacekeeper grapples him and pulls me on stage.

Asher's family screams as he stand solemnly on stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" McEarthy grins and announces, "The tributes of District Seven!"

**Somewhere in District Eight**

"Loleria?" Darian barged in her room, "Loleria Estlo?"

"Hello, Darian." She throws her blanket off of her bed and stands up. She was in her underwear, but Darian could care less. They've known each other for almost 13 years. She looked at him and grinned. "Reaping Day, huh?"

"Yeah." Darian smiled and sat on her bed. "About that-"

She starts digging in her closet, looking for anything nice to wear. "Loleria?"

She turned, half into her jeans, and she looks into his nice blue eyes.

"Yeah, Darian?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"What-?"

A yell from downstairs makes her roll her eyes and slide her jeans back off. "But I don't LIKE dresses!"

Another yell and she runs downstairs to get her dress.

When Loleria gets there, almost naked, her mother throws the dress at her. "Act decent in front of Damian, Loleria. He doesn't need to see all of that skin."

She rolls her eyes. "He's like my brother, Mom!"'

"If I were you, I'd let him decide that."

"Huh?"

"Time for the Reaping!"

She wondered on her short trip with Damian and Mom to the Reaping.

Loleria had a good life, but Damian's family have constantly struggled with drug abuse and dealings. They make enough to support Damian, but at the very least Mom gives him love and time away from his parents. She certaintly don't mind.

Suddenly, the Reaping began and Loleria and Damian share a hug, and they seperate into their respective spots in the 17-year-old sections. They maintain eye contact for the longest time.

The escort, some guy name Dirk, smiled and announced the newest addition to the horrible games.

First, of course, was the girls. Loleria crossed my fingers and looked at Damian.

"Loleria Estlo!"

MY name. She thought

She tears up and walks up on stage, choking back tears. She looks at Damian, his sadness reflecting on her.

"Now for the boy! Victor-"

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" Damian screamed, rushing onto the stage, hugging her.

"Damian... No!" She choked.

Then he kissed her on the stage. When he broke the kiss, he whispered in her ear- "I love you, Loleria Estlo. I love you."

**Somewhere in District Nine**

My name is Abel Frederick. I am a solid believer in Christ, and I go to church almost every day. That much is out of the way.

He is looking at the mirror, confident in his look and his blessing from the lord to save him from the Reaping. To not die. A firm believer, I've never doubted the Lord.

"Jin! It's time!" Dad said. He's a pastor at New Hope Church.

He rushed down to the bottom of the stairs and saw his four brothers sitting in the living room, all crowded around my father, who had an open Bible.

"Daddy?" His brother, Jin, asked Dad when Abel sat down next to him. "If God is protecting us, why do the Hunger Games go on? Isn't it bad?"

Dad took a breath and sighed. "The kids that go into the Games are not under God's blessing. Some practice homosexuality, some turned away from God, some are serious sinners."

Jin nodded and looked down at the Bible.

Jin was the youngest of the five of them. Abel was the middle child, at 14, while Abel is 11, Joseph is 12, David is 16, and John, 18.

Dad looked at his watch, and clapped the Bible shut. "Reaping time, boys, and remember, your under the protection of God."

Confident. I'm safe. I haven't gotten Reaped yet, I won't. I haven't sinned. He stands in line behind his brothers, while Abel stands with Dad, watching us.

The escort, a young, short stout woman with chubby cheeks waddles on stage and smiles. "Ladies first!" She says, digging her meaty hands into the bowl. "Ariana Glear!"

I know her. She's a lesbian at my school. My father's right, only sinners go into the Games. Abel thinks.

Until his name is picked next. "Jin Frederick!"

He gulped and look at all of my brothers. They all glare at him.

They think I'm a sinner, they think I turned away from God!

He solemnly walked onto stage, thinking of the only thing he's ever done that was wrong- but it couldn't have been that, could it? I mean, I didn't even DO that . . .

He tried to look into my father's eyes, but he already gathered my brothers and started his way back home, leaving me to die in the Arena.

**Somewhere in District Ten**

"OMIGOD Diana look at her! She's SOOOOOOOOO ugly!" I laughed, nugding my best friend in her side. I was looking at the girl sitting on the sidewalk reading her stupid book. Her name was Beatrice Smith, and she was 17, waiting to go into the Games. Apparently, her family was really poor and she wanted to win. She had been reading up on how to win for ages now, but GOD, can she please put some acne cream on and at least TRY to look a little decent?

Diana and she laughed at her feeble attempts to make us leave her alone. "Come on, pimple face, you know better than us that you have no chances of winning the Games! Your not Career material!"

Beatrice looked up at Diana. "I'm not gonna be a Career, I'm simply going to wait out the other tributes until they all die out, then make my traps and wait."

"So dumb!"she laughed, "everyone knows you need an alliance to survive!"

She waved her hand and went back to reading her survival guide.

At least this year,she knowwon't be Reaped, because Beatrice already got that covered for me.

I rolled my eyes at her and started walking towards the Reaping.

Me and Diana are extremely tight, and since we live on the rich side of D10, we don't have to worry about tesserae or anything. Lucky us. And this year, she know Beatrice will volunteer, so YAY!

My mother is a very rich woman. We used to live in District 2, way back when she was a baby, but my Mom hit some reporting job here in Ten and got stuck here, the Capitol not letting her back to Two.

We neared the Reaping, and she went right next to Diana, into the 17-year-old section.

"Ladies first!" The district escort, Westly, smiled a smile that hurt my eyes to look at that should've came with the label- DO NOT STARE DIRECTLY AT TEETH, NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR EYE DAMAGE OR BLINDNESS.

He dipped around in the bowl, and then- "Hillary Prince!"

I gasped, then realized that Beatrice was, obviously, going to volunteer.

I looked to her, and the hate in her eyes made me feel horrible. she had teased her for ages now, and this was her payback. I'm at her mercy, and she need her to volunteer.

But she wasn't, and she had to walk up on stage.

I cried like a baby, and so did Diana. The boy tribute- "Tiberius Kane!"

I thought it was a weird name, as Tiberius walked up on stage, she felt puny. He was 6'6, and he had broad shoulders. He sat in the chair, but it dipped down to hold his weight. He was by no means fat, just well-built and god, let me say it . . . hot. Maybe he would keep me alive, we could be allies.

Then she could stab him in his back and win the Hunger Games.

**Somewhere in District Eleven**

I rise and immediatly dress. he brush my hair and walk down the stairs, seeing my Mom cooking pancakes. he love pancakes.

"Today's the day, isn't it, Mom?" he say, smiling at her.

"Yeah, another day of fear and death." Mom says, sadly.

"Don't worry, momma, I'm only 14, he don't have much tesserae. I'll live."

A gunshot outside makes me jump. he run to the door, but my Mom reaches it first.

I peek from behind her shoulder. A horrible sight awaits me, a dead man with Peacekeepers gathering him and and dragging him away. Disorderly conduct, my guess. Second one this week. The poor side of Eleven, is of course, extremely violent. My uncle and father died in the same fashion.

It still stings when he think of it.

"Mom, I'm going to get us out of this place." he say.

"Jamal, no-!"

"I'm- I'm going to volunteer. That shooting was right across the street! What if the bullets came across the street?"

"Jamal, you can't-"

"I'll win, Momma, I'll win."

She started bawling. he hated when she did that, but she does it quite often. But he had made up my mind. he was going to volunteer and win and get us out of this neighborhood.

All day she tried to talk me out of it. he was set, though, on winning the Hunger Games. On the way to the Games, another death happened, and me and my Mom had seen him before, his name was Gerard. He had gotten in an argument with a younger man, and BLAM! Gerard was bleeding everywhere. Mom didn't cry at that. She never cries when someone she knows dies, not anymore. But me, she was crying everytime she thought about it.

The escort was a woman named Pyla, with bright pink hair that looked so ugly that he wanted to barf everywhere.

"First, is the girl's." Pyla said, swishing her hand in the bowl far to much. "Saige Barti!"

She was a twelve-year-old. My stomach turned. "Kyle Schmi-"

"I volunteer!" he yelled, and my mother screamed, but he bravely walked up on stage, feeling horrible already. Pyla grinned at me and he wanted to slap her.

"What's your name, son?" Pyla said to me.

I almost didn't want to answer, just to be spiteful, but he asnwered- "Jamal. Jamal Pierceton."

"Saige Barti and Jamal Pierceton, everyone!"

**Somewhere in District Twelve**

Another push-up and I'll be done, she told herself. Then 20 pull-ups, then spear-throwing. But it was like she was addicted or something, she kept at it, going on and on to where she lost track. Her personal best is 204 before she had to stop to at dinner, that was last week, her haven't had the time to beat my personal record, but I was going to be the personal best when I win the Hunger Games. Yes, a girl from D12 was going to volunteer, and become a Career.

My Dad was all gung-ho. But I would have done it with or without him. I'm just lucky he steals from everyone to get me the supplies I need. I know, that's bad, but really, how does anyone win the Games without a Training Center? I mean, no-one's volunteered in Twelve in over a decade. Now it's time to break that record.

My wrist twisted and I flopped onto the concrete face-first, busting my nose, blood pouring everywhere. That's usual, though, I already look tough as nails and strong as an ox.

I thought I was beautiful, but boys don't think so. Not that I care, once I win all the boys will be bowing down to my feet. Well, in a few weeks when I come out of the Arena my shaved hair will grow back. Keeping it in a ponytail was tough, but when I had hair I had guys hitting on me.

I pulled on my combat boots and a military sand camoflauge cargo pants and a tanktop that fit quite tight.

"Sierra!" My Dad called, smiling a con-artist smile as he entered the room. "Hey, beauty-pie."

"I'm not 6 anymore, Dad, so please don't call me beauty-pie." I sighed.

"Your going to volunteer, right? RIGHT?"

"Yes, Dad, I am in fact going to volunteer. Please leave."

"I wanna see you nail targets with the spear you love so much."

"Okay, Daddy." I say, holding my nose as blood drips on the floor.

"You okay?"

"I'am always okay, Daddy."

In the backyard, I grab the spear, and Dad pulls the targets up.

I throw it, hard, and it slams in the forehead of the first target. Next, right in the heart. Last, in the throat.

"You're ready, baby." Dad says, hugging me.

"I know, Dad, I know."

The Reaping was like every other year. The escort, a dark guy named Edgar, with a hump on his back, swished his hands in the bowl without saying anything.

"Piper Garreth. . ." He said, mumbling into the microphone.

No-one responded. Then he spoke up- "PIPER GARRETH, YOU PATHETIC BEINGS!"

A scream, and I knew it was time for me. "I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

I stomped up on stage, beaming at everyone.

"Quitin Katan. . ." Edgar mumbled.

"QUITIN KATAN!" I translated so Edgar wouldn't flip again.

A tall, skinny boy walked up on stage, solemnly. He grinned, creepily.

"Let's go, tributes." Edgar mumbled.

I waved as we walked off stage.

My time to shine.

_A/N- I messed up with the perspective so some words may be messed up. Don't take it to heart. Just know it won't happen again. I accidentally did it in 1st person after D7, then I tried to fix it and I messed up._


End file.
